


A Fault in Our Deduction

by rekitouya



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-01-31
Packaged: 2018-01-10 17:23:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1162451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rekitouya/pseuds/rekitouya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John doesn't know that coming to the support group that particular day will change his whole life forever. My JohnLock version of The Fault in Our Star.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Fault in Our Deduction

 

“John, you need to go out, live a life. You’re a teenager for God sake.” 

“Well, I’m hardly a normal one, aren’t I?”

She sighed and looked at me. “Put down your books. You’re going to the Holmes’ support group today. No buts-“

“But MOM—“

“I said no buts. Or do you want me to confiscate all your books?”

“Well, I’d like to see you try.” I glanced over my unlimited books supply—which she did too— and grinned. Her expression isn’t that good. Oops here we go.

“John Hamish Watson. YOU are going to the support group today. I would drag you there myself if I should. Half of your medical fees are paid by the Holmes Charity. The least you can do is show up. How many weeks have you skipped the meeting?”

I looked at my mother in the eye. Oh now we resort to a staring match. The one I’d soon lose because, damn, she was looking at me with those tired eyes. The wrinkles on her face screams exhaustion of a woman who had been through so much. The least I can do is, well, try to make her happy.

“All right, mom.” I closed the book—The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks— I’ve been reading and put it on my backpack. She frowned at that. 

“Honey, why don’t you left your book? Try socializing. Isn’t it heavy carrying that book around?”

“Look mom, this is just a.. precaution. You might be late on picking me up and this would keep me company. Also, it isn’t that heavy.”

Actually what I wanted to say is, they are all so boring, I’d rather read my book than socializing so of course I need to bring my book. 

“Okay then. Whatever you want. We leave at three. Now go shower, you stink.” 

***

I unhooked the pipe from my nose with practiced ease and put it around the ventilator then I put on my oxygen mask. This is a ritual I always do before I take a shower. My mom used to help me shower in the past, but now I have reached the age of where I think it’s inappropriate despite the difficulties of doing it alone.

As the hot water streamed down, my mind starts to wonder the reasons why I despise the support group meeting so much. I don’t see the point of telling our wretched and sad life story to a bunch of people, who god knows if they’re still alive on the next meeting, supposed to make us feel better. I’m not saying that I don’t like people. People find me funny, sweet and easy to talk to. I just don’t like making connection to people. 

If I make friends or you say, best friend, what would it feels like if one of you passed away earlier than the other? It would gut and break my heart for sure. I don’t want many people to mourn. I think my mom and my family is mourning is more than enough. So—

“John! Are you sleeping in there?” My mom knocked the bathroom door repeatedly. 

“Of course not, mom! Geez!” I turned the shower off and rubbed my eyes. ‘When I open my eyes again, it would all be okay. John Watson you can do it.’

***

The room are buzzing with people but it’s a quite buzz. Chairs are already put in the center of the room making a big circle. There are already some people occupying it. It reminds me of a bonfire I used to see when I was a kid. Minus the fire, minus the laugh, and minus the happiness. There are some long desks on the side of the room holding some plastic cups filled with tea and orange juice and also some muffins. 

Hm, I love muffins. I grabbed one and started walking towards Mike, my friend since I was first diagnosed, and sat down beside him.

“Long time no see, mate! How’s your feeling? Getting better?” He slapped my forearm lightly.

I grimaced. “Yeah. Not really but I get by. How about you?” 

“Still kicking and alive. I just so into this video game now—“ I decided to tune him out and just nodded at the perfect time. Oh gosh, I can’t wait for this to be over. 

“Yoohoo, we’re going to start soon! Those who aren’t seated yet please hurry go to your seat.” That was Mrs. Hudson speaking. She’s the leader of this support group. It means she’s the one who opens, closes, and leads the discussion. I like her. She’s very nice and she’s the one who baked those wonderful muffins.

After making sure each one of us is already seated and comfortable, She stands up and said, “Now before we begin, let’s thank God for his grace by which we can gather here and also we pray to the God for our friends who have fought and now at His side.” 

We put our hands together and close our eyes. I can hear someone sniffles. A girl voice. Maybe she was thinking about our unfortunate luck or maybe one of her friends has lost the battle with the cancer. I don’t honestly know.

“Amen. Now I see some familiar face I haven’t seen in a long time. Thank you John Watson for gracing us with your presence.” Mrs. Hudson smiled kindly at me.

Now everyone is looking at me and I’m blushing. “Um, hi! Thanks for still having me.”

“Oh dear, Of course we will still have you. Do you want to start fi—“ 

CREAK. Everyone’s eyes turn to the doorway. There stood a young man with a long coat and scarves around his neck. He has pale skin that make his emerald eyes stand out more. A sharp cheekbones and curly black hair that framed his face perfectly.

‘Is he an actor or something?’ is what I thought at first. Well, I don’t watch a lot of television mind you. 

The awkward silence was broken by Mrs. Hudson, “Sherlock! You didn’t tell me you’re coming today!” Mrs. Hudson flew across the room and hugged Sherlock tightly before helping him putting off his coat. 

“A little surprise wouldn’t hurt right?” Sherlock whispers into Mrs. Hudson.

“Oh please, I’m and old woman already, I don’t need many surprise.”

“Hardly, 35 is not that old you know.”

“Oh, Sherlock. Just.. don’t repeat what you did on the last meeting okay?”

Sherlock just grinned in response. 

Mrs. Hudson guided him gently to the only empty chairs on the room. It’s beside me. I feel like throwing up already. Why wouldn’t you if this gorgeous stranger is sitting uncomfortably close? 

“Um, hi.” I said to him after he was seated and Mrs. Hudson is returning to her seat. 

He turned and looked at me as if he’s studying me. I’ve never feel so intimidated on my life. I decided to just look at his eyes and shit those eyes are gorgeous. 

“Ehem, now where were we? Oh yeah, I just remember. Molly asked me earlier to be the first speaker tonight. Well go on then. Everyone, give applause to Molly Hooper!”

A girl around 15-16 stands up. She wears a simple black dress and her hair is tied into a ponytail. She is shaking lightly and I can see tears forming on her eyes. She squeaked a little and her voice at first were so small. 

“. . T-thank you f-for giving me this chance t-to speak. . I, I want t-to tell you guys—“, she chocked and tears were streaming down her face now, “s-some.. something!” 

“Take it easy, dear,” said Mrs. Hudson. The rest of the people in the room are now looking at her with concern. Except for one person, Sherlock. He’s frowning. Not that I’ve been watching his expression mind you.

“O-okay. Actually next.. mon-th, I will—“ and here she breaks down again. 

I hear Sherlock cursed under his breath. “Oh for God sake.” 

Suddenly he stands up and all hell break loose.

“What she was saying is next week she will undergo an operation that only has a very little rate of survival, judging from her expression only about 20% or 30% at most. From her dress, we know that she thinks it’s the last time she can see all of you. Why? Because it’s black and black stands for funereal. Our molly here is a loner too. She keeps touching her bracelet as if looking for courage. The bracelet is pure white gold made so of course it’s from her parents not her friends. Having to say something scary if you’ve friends you would be holding her hand right. So, no friends. Also—“ SPLASH

The next minute Sherlock Holmes is soaking wet. He is dumbfounded. So is the rest of the room. The one who throws a cup (or is it two?) of orange juice at him is Sally Donovan. Sally looked enraged. Her nostril is flaring. I think it would be funny if not for the fact that Molly has burst into tears and now sitting on the ground.

“Oh my! Sally what have you done?! Sherlock, go to the washroom. You could go with John. Molly dear, ssh it’s all right.” Mrs. Hudson tried to calm Molly down. 

Sherlock turned to me coolly and lifted one of his eyebrows, “So? Shall we go?” 

“Yeah, sure.” Good thing, I think I can’t stay on the room any longer.  
The journey to the washroom was awkward. I want to say so many things but nothing could come out from my mouth. A mix of ‘How did you do that? It was amazing!’ and ‘You are a heartless man, look at what you did!’ but I choose not to say anything until we arrived.

Because of the orange juice, now his shirt stuck to his body making him look sexier. Yum, Wait, what are you thinking John Watson. I shook out of my daze and try to look normal. 

“Do you need this?” I offered my handkerchief. The one I always carry everywhere, because really, you couldn’t know when you throat decided to coughs up blood. 

“Yeah, thanks.” He continued his attempt to wash the juice away. It’s getting a little awkward.

“What did happen in the room—“ I began.

“I couldn’t help it. Also I couldn’t help it now to figure out that you suffer from lung cancer stadium 3 or 4, is a nerd or love studying judging from the size of your backpack that you carry book everywhere. Also you have a brother who has one size smaller than you and you’re wearing his shirt now.” He said it all while rubbing at her wet shirt.

“Wow. It was.. amazing.” I said looking at his face. He paused then turned to look at me.

“Really?”

“Yeah, Really.” He smiled a bit.

“That’s not what people usually say”

“What they usually say?”

“A mix of piss off or bugger off,” he grinned. 

Now I feel like smiling along too. 

“You’re wrong about one thing, though.”

“What?”

“I have a sister, actually. She likes to wear man’s clothes. I used to be bigger than her but I lost my weight because of the cancer so yeah.”

“AH! Damn it!”

“Take it easy, mate. You’re right about everything else though.” 

“Thank you. Now, shall we go back to the room?” 

“Nah, I don’t feel like it.” I can’t even imagine going back to that room, it’s mortifying. 

“Me neither. We should go outside and have our own chat.. if you want to.”

“Oh God yes. I’ll tell Mrs. Hudson not to search for us. I think she had enough of accidents for one day.” I smirked at him.

“Shut it, you.” He smirked back.  
We end up talking until the meeting inside is over. I’ve learnt some things about him. He’s a verified douchebag. He says he’s a sociopath, a high-functioning one. He can deduce what you had for breakfast from the stain, what’s your medical history, and also many bizarre things. We don’t talk about each other’s illness at all.

It’s been a long time since I had fun talking to someone. My conversation always include pitying looks and stolen glance at the pipe on my nose that helps me to breath. Sometimes I want to talk normally to people and I’m happy Sherlock did that. 

We were talking and talking until I finally hear the sound of my mother’s car engine. 

“My mom is here.” 

“Oh.”

“So.. It was nice talking to you..”

“Yeah.” 

My face fell. 

“So, it’s a good bye then?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, John. I still have to return your handkerchief.”

My face lit up.

“You better wash it thoroughly.” 

“I will. Now go, your mom is waiting.” 

I waved at him and he did too. My whole body is giddy. 

I entered the car after setting the ventilator at the back. Mom is looking at me weirdly. No wonder, it must be because of me smiling so widely. 

“Hi. Are you sure you’re my son? You must be an alien from somewhere borrowing his body.” 

“Mom, please.”

“Okay, okay. Who is he?”

“Who? Sherlock?”

“Just Sherlock? No last name?”

“I.. didn’t ask.” 

“Oh, okay. How was the support group?”

“I’m glad you asked.” 

I proceed to tell her the whole story and how great Sherlock with his deduction. While talking, I remember something. 

I didn’t take my book out at all from the bag today.


End file.
